MCJC 
Mendocino Coast Jewish Community

For the retreat I prepared, as I often do, to teach something about which I know little. As I poked around in traditional Jewish sources, I found lots and lots of information about loving other people: beautiful stories, laws and maxims. However, I found virtually nothing about “as yourself.” Maybe it’s assumed that people will always treat themselves well--it’s the love for the other that must be described and legislated. Still, the lacuna was striking.

To try to figure out what it might mean to love oneself, my retreat co-planners and I came up with a process of “inversions” of texts about loving others. We would look at texts about loving others to see how Jewish tradition understands love, and then we could direct that understanding back to ourselves and see what we could learn. For example, at Rosh Hashana we will read the story of Hannah and her grief at being unable to conceive a child, especially while her co-wife, Peninah, mocked her (I Samuel 1:2). In response, their husband, Elkanah, gave Hannah a double portion in front of Peninah. He confronted Peninah. He also recognized that the trip to Shiloh was especially difficult for Hannah and gave her extra reassurance before that annual pilgrimage. He continued this loving gesture every year.

Offering consolation. Standing up to one who insults or attacks. Understanding the hard places, even if they’re idiosyncratic. Reassurance. Steadfastness. What might it be like to treat ourselves this way? Would it be self-centered? Would it take away from our ability to love and serve others? To love and serve God?

I came away from the retreat with an equation that was simple but revelatory to me: I deserve to be treated as kindly, as fairly, as justly, as respectfully as anyone else. Not more, but not less either. Right now I’m just trying it on for size. But something feels very right in this. I’ve long felt that you can’t do other people’s teshuvah (repentance, turning) for them. If someone hurts me, it’s on their soul to try to repair it, or not to, as they choose. I don’t need to go tell people that they owe me an apology.

However, when I look at some of the green marks on my timeline of this past year, I realize that I feel uncomfortable, not because I did something for which I should apologize, but because someone did something to me. I can say to myself, “I didn’t deserve to be treated that way.” That simple, silent acknowledgement feels helpful to me as I reckon with my own failings. Everyone fails sometimes, and sometimes people fail me, just as I sometimes fail others. It’s wonderful and beautiful when this is acknowledged, when someone asks my forgiveness and tries to set things right. But if they don’t, I can say, “Well, that person let me down. I deserved better.” I can console and reassure myself, even if that other person did just the opposite.

I learn so much in life with all of you, at the retreat and everywhere else, and I am eager and excited for another year of life together. I hope that 5779 is the best year ever--for you and your beloveds, for our community and our world. L’shana Tovah!

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